


The Wayward Daughter

by waywardella



Series: The Wayward Daughter [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardella/pseuds/waywardella
Summary: When John Winchester finds a baby girl at the side of the road, the life of the Winchesters will change forever. What if it wasn't just Sam and Dean saving people and hunting things? Meet Ella- honorary Winchester, bad-ass hunter, and the girl who will either save them all or destroy everything she touches.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! :)  
> I'm really happy to be posting on this site and I hope you like this story- fair warning, it's gonna get loooong (I have no self control when it comes to writing).  
> Don't be afraid to reach out to me and let me know what you think- I love hearing from my readers :)   
> Okay, that's enough rambling from me- enjoy the story!

I never knew my real parents.

John Winchester used to tell me that he found me as a baby on the side of the road after a long, hard day of hunting. I was wrapped up in a faded blanket, and I wasn't moving- he thought I was dead at first. But when he picked me up, I opened my eyes and blinked at him sleepily, yawning. He told me later that when my eyes first opened, he almost dropped me- it was like he was looking into his oldest son's eyes. He knew then that he couldn't leave me there.

He brought me back to the run-down hotel where he had been staying, and showed me to his sons Sam and Dean. Sam was only four at the time and didn't know what was happening, but Dean had just turned 8, and at first, he didn't want me. He thought keeping me would be too dangerous, that I would get them all killed. But later that night, when I was whimpering in my makeshift bed and John was dead asleep, Dean was the one who picked me up and comforted me. And when he looked into my eyes, he saw himself.

So I became a Winchester, and grew up in the life. John taught me how to shoot my first gun, and Sam always made sure I carried salt with me. And on the nights when I couldn't sleep, Dean would sing 'Hey Jude' to me, because that's what his mother used to sing to him. We were a family.

But things weren't always great. John was gone a lot, leaving me with Sam and Dean in the motel-of-the-week. And on the nights he did come home, he was often too tired to tell us about his day, and fell asleep on the couch within 10 minutes. When Dean turned 13, he started going on hunts with John, leaving 9-year-old Sam alone with 5-year-old me. We spent most of our time together- Sam taught me how to read, and I taught him my best dance moves (which mainly consisted of lots of jumping around). Sometimes John would refuse to take Dean with him on hunts, so he left him in charge of the two of us. Dean would sulk for a day or two, but once he got over it, we ended up having a lot of fun. He taught me how to play blackjack, using shotgun shells filled with rock salt in place of betting money. That only lasted a month before I got better than him, and he refused to play with me.

We lived like this for years- bouncing from school to school, sleeping in the Impala (and in real beds when we could), and hunting down all the evil things in the world. I got pretty good with a shotgun, and since I was the smallest of the four, I was the best at sneaking around. Sam and Dean learned this the hard way during a trip to Texas when I got bored and decided to short-sheet their beds and hide all their socks in various nooks and crannies of the Impala. I got used to late night drives and staying up reading until I fell asleep on Sam, and singing along to AC/DC at the top of my lungs with Dean. It wasn't a perfect life, but I loved it all the same.

But when I was 14, all of that changed. Sam went off to Stanford and left me with Dean and John. I spent most of my time with Dean- John was often in a bad mood, and we learned to tiptoe around him. On the nights where he would be especially moody, Dean and I would sneak out in the middle of the night. We usually ended up in the nearest bar- there aren't really a lot of places open at 1 in the morning. Dean was the one who gave me my first drink and got me my first fake ID, but I could usually get in without one. By the time I turned 18, I was no longer the skinny little girl who could beat anyone in blackjack and take down someone a head taller than me. I was still slim and athletic, but also pretty curvy- combine that with my long black curly hair and tall frame, and with a little red lipstick and heels, I could easily pass for 21. Dean worried about me being attacked or drugged, but after some random asshole tried to grope me and got knocked out with a single punch, he decided I could take care of myself.

And then John went missing. He had gone on a hunting trip that was only supposed to last a few days, but a week later, we hadn't heard from him, and he wasn't answering his phone. I told Dean it was nothing to worry about- he was probably on a bender somewhere- but Dean insisted that we had to go find him. So we went to go get Sam from Stanford- we needed all the help we could get.


	2. It's Been A While

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the chapter! :)

When we arrived at Stanford, it was late at night, and although you could hear the thumping of party music in the distance, the campus seemed empty. Dean pulled up outside of where Sam lived and shut the engine off before turning to face me.  
"You ready, El?"  
I nodded, and pulled my hair up into a quick ponytail, trying to hide just how badly my hands were shaking.   
"Yeah, I guess. Do you think he'll be happy to see us?"  
"Dude, we're breaking into his house in the middle of the night. What do you think?" Dean responded, shaking his head.  
"Yeah, you're probably right. I'm just worried- I haven't seen him in two years. What if he hates me?"  
"Ella, why would he hate you?"  
"I don't know, Dean. I'm nervous, and when I get nervous I start to think of the worst-case scenario and then I can't stop thinking about it and-"  
"Okay, you need to relax. Take a deep breath, will ya?" Dean said, reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder.  
I took a long, slow breath and managed to relax a little bit, and Dean smiled at me reassuringly.   
"Hey, it's going to be fine. Now let's go get our Sammy."

 

We crept up to Sam's door, and I knelt down to pick the lock. It took me a little longer than usual- I dropped the tools a few times because my hands were shaking so badly, but after a few minutes I heard the lock click. Dean slowly turned the doorknob and held out his arm, motioning for me to let him go in first. We snuck into the entryway and closed the door quietly behind us, looking around the room. There were a large pair of shoes by the door with a high heels haphazardly thrown beside them, and Dean turned to look at me, raising one eyebrow.   
"Looks like Sammy's got a guest, huh?" He whispered, smirking.  
"Dean, focus! Are you sure we're in the right place?"  
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Do you see how damn big those shoes are?"  
"True," I responded, grinning up at him, and we continued to creep through the house. 

We made our way to what seemed to be the kitchen, and I attempted to hop up on the counter and make myself comfortable without making much noise. Unfortunately, I wasn't very successful- my hip smacked into an empty glass and sent it crashing to the floor. Dean spun around to glare at me before bringing his finger to his lips in a shushing motion. I smiled sheepishly, and inched myself closer to the wall. We heard the quiet thump of footsteps approaching us, and Dean looked at me with a smirk on his face before creeping forward.  
Sam slowly entered the kitchen, walking right past me. Noticing Dean trying to be still across the kitchen, he leapt at him, and they started fighting. I rolled my eyes and watched them try to take each other out, before Dean pinned Sam down.  
"Whoa, easy tiger!" Dean said, smirking.  
Sam was panting on the floor underneath him, and he looked up in shock at his brother's face.  
"Dean?"  
Dean laughed quietly.  
"You scared the crap out of me!" Sam said, still trying to catch his breath.  
"That's cause you're out of practice," Dean replied, still grinning smugly.  
Sam somehow managed to quickly flip them over so he was on top of Dean, and I tried my hardest not to laugh.  
"Or not," Dean said, smiling up at his brother.   
Dean tapped his shoulder and told him to get off, and Sam obliged, helping him up. I gave up on holding in my laughter, and slid off the counter. Sam looked at me in shock and was about to tackle me before Dean pulled him back.  
"Jeez, Sam, it's just Ella!" Dean said, struggling to hold him back.  
Sam froze and squinted at me.  
"Ella? What the hell?" Sam said, wiggling out of Dean's grasp.  
"Hey, Sammy," I smiled, walking towards him.  
"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Sam asked.  
"Well, I was looking for a beer," Dean responded, grabbing Sam's shoulders and smacking him before dropping his arms.  
"What... the hell... are you doing here?" Sam asked slowly.  
"Okay, alright. We gotta talk."  
"Uh, the phone?" Sam responded, an edge of sarcasm in his voice.  
"If I'd have called, would you have picked up?"  
The light turned on, startling us all. We spun to face the light switch, and Dean instantly pulled me behind him.  
"Sam?"  
A pretty blonde girl stood at the doorway in a Smurfs shirt and some pajama shorts, looking at us in confusion.  
"Jess. Hey..." Sam said, looking at her before turning to Dean and me.  
"Dean, Ella, this is my girlfriend Jessica."  
She walked closer to us, still looking puzzled, and Dean pulled me closer to him.   
I smacked him and slipped out from behind him.  
"Dean, I can take care of myself," I said, crossing my arms and giving him the death glare.   
He raised his hands in surrender, and stepped away from me.  
"Wait, your brother Dean?" Jessica asked, a smile creeping across her face.  
"I love the Smurfs," Dean said, smiling at her and earning a smack from me.  
"You know, I gotta tell you- you... are completely out of my brother's league."  
I rolled my eyes and prepared to smack him again, but he slid out of reach.   
Sighing, I crossed my arms, and waited for her response.  
"Let me put something on," she said, as she turned to leave.  
"No no, no- I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously," Dean said, smirking.  
"Dean, you're being gross- cut it out," I told him, rolling my eyes yet again.  
Jess turned to me with a grateful smile on her face that quickly turned into confusion.  
"And you're Ella?" She asked.  
"Yeah, that's me," I answered, smiling shyly at her.  
Jess turned to Sam, who did not look pleased with the turn in the conversation.  
"Sam, is she..."  
"Yeah. She's the girl who Dad raised as his own," Sam answered, running a hand through his overly long hair.  
After an awkward pause, Dean, who had somehow managed to remain silent, turned back to Jess.  
"Anyway, I've gotta borrow your boyfriend here to talk about some family business, but, uh... Nice meeting you," Dean grinned, stepping closer to me and Sam.  
Sam looked at him before turning to Jess.  
"No."  
He walked over to Jess and slid his long arm around her waist.  
"No. Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her," Sam said, looking Dean directly in the eyes and avoiding my gaze.  
"Okay," Dean said, stepping closer to the couple. I hung back- I didn't want to get any closer than I had to.  
"Um, Dad hasn't been home in a few days."  
Sam sighed.  
"So he's working overtime on another time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later."  
Dean nodded before repeating himself.  
"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam's face slowly turned grim, and he paused before telling Jess that we needed a moment.  
She nodded, and Sam showed us to the door. He closed it behind him and turned to us, motioning us down the stairs.

"I mean, come on, you can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you," Sam said as we walked down the stairs.  
"You know, I hear me, Sammy. Dad's missing. We need you to help us find him."  
"Remember the poltergeist in Amherst?" Sam responded. "Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then to. He's always missing, and he's always fine."  
Dean and I turned to him.  
"Sam..." I said, brushing my too-long bangs away from my face.  
"Not for this long," Dean responded. "Are you gonna come with us or not?"  
Sam sighed, before shaking his head.  
"I'm not."  
"Why not?" Dean asked, crossing his arms.  
"Sammy, come on, we need your help," I pleaded, looking at him.  
He glanced at me quickly before he sighed and turned back to Dean.  
"I swore I was done hunting. For good."  
"Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad," Dean scoffed, before turning around and starting down the stairs again.  
"Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45," Sam responded as we reached the door.  
"Sam, he was doing the best he knew how to do," I said. "He did the same for me."  
"Ella, you were 8. He wouldn't even let you use the stove without supervision," Sam sighed, turning to face me.  
“Okay, how the hell was I supposed to know that when you spill Jello powder on a hot stove it bursts into flames?"  
"She's got a point, Sammy," Dean said, trying to hold back his laughter.  
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Sam smiled slightly before becoming serious again. "But Dean, I was nine years old! He was supposed to say 'don't be afraid of the dark'."  
Dean scoffed.  
"Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there."  
"Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her..."  
Dean glanced outside, a hard look on his face.  
"And Dad didn't have to bring Ella into it too- she was just a kid, Dean," Sam said sadly.  
"I would take this life over dying on the side of the road any day, Sam. Your dad saved my life," I hissed, standing up a little straighter. "So he wasn't the best father. But he took me in when anybody else would have left me there to die."  
Sam sheepishly looked down at his feet, and Dean wrapped his arm around my shoulders.  
"I know, kid. I know," Dean assured me, before opening the door.  
We stepped through the door and into the night, and headed over to the Impala. Sam trailed behind, but followed us regardless.  
"But Dean, do you really think this is what Mom wanted for us?" Sam asked, easily catching up to us.  
"The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Dean, we were raised like warriors."  
Dean looked at him harshly before spitting "So you're just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?"  
"Dean..." I always hated it when they fought.  
"No. Not normal- Safe."  
"And that's why you ran away," Dean said, looking off into the distance.  
"I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing," Sam responded shortly.  
"Sammy, he didn't mean it," I said softly, trying to break up the fight.  
Sam looked at me sadly before turning away.  
"We can't do this alone," Dean said, and Sam turned back to him, eyes shining with tears.  
"Yes, you can," Sam responded, and turned to walk away. I reached out to touch his arm, and he froze.  
"Please, Sammy? We need you," I pleaded.  
He sighed and looked down, and after a short pause, he looked back up at us with a determined look on his face.  
"What was he hunting?"  
Dean popped the trunk and started digging around.  
"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked as he watched Dean pick up a case of bullets, shrug, and toss it back in.  
"Well, I was working my own gig, and Ella came with me."  
Sam looked at Dean, obviously stunned.  
"You brought her on a hunt? What the hell, Dean?"  
"Dude, have you seen her shoot?" Dean grinned at me goofily, and I reached over to mess up his hair.  
Dean finally found what he was looking for, and started to update Sam on the case. I had heard this spiel too many times over the past week, so I settled into the backseat of the Impala, kicking my boots off and grabbing a book from the floor. Sam ran in to pack a bag, and Dean climbed into the driver's seat, turning to look at me.  
"You okay, kid?"  
I nodded slightly before returning to my book. Sam opened the door and climbed in, and we pulled away and started our long drive.

I woke up the next morning to the Allman Brothers blasting through the car speakers , and a bottle of soda and a bag of chips unceremoniously dumped into my lap. I opened my eyes slowly and found Dean grinning at me.  
"Morning, sunshine! Brought you breakfast!"  
I yawned and sat up, stretching my arms over my head.  
"Jesus, Dean- it's like 8 am. How are you so freaking perky?"  
Dean laughed, and reached out to close his car door. Sam had been searching through Dean's box of music, and finding nothing satisfactory, decided to poke a little fun at Dean. Rolling my eyes, I opened my bag of chips and drank my soda, wincing when Dean turned the music up and peeled away from the gas station.

After a while, we pulled up to the bridge leading into town to find two police cars and several officers. Dean pulled the car off to the side and popped open the glove compartment to grab the ID box. He dug through until he found the badges he wanted, tossed me one, and turned to grin at Sam. We got out of the car and started walking towards the bridge. Dean reached the lead Deputy first, and Sam and I hung back slightly.  
"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean asked, causing the deputy to straighten up and look at him.  
"And who are you?"  
Dean and I showed him our badges, and after giving me a suspicious look, he turned back to Dean.  
"Aren't you three a little young for Marshals?"  
Dean laughed slightly and thanked him before he and Sam walked over to the car. I walked over to the edge of the bridge and looked down at the murky water below, catching the eye of one of the officers searching the water. I quickly looked back to Sam and Dean and saw that they were walking to the car, so I hurried to catch up.  
They told me what they had heard, and we got into the car and drove away.

When we arrived at the town, Dean announced that he was hungry, so we drove around looking for food. We found a place to park and got out of the car, Dean unsurprisingly leading the way. As we walked, I noticed a girl putting up posters of the missing guy's face, and I turned and elbowed Dean in the side.  
"Hey, check that out."  
Dean turned to look, and then nodded at me.  
"Yeah, one of the officers was talking about the girlfriend of the missing guy- I'll bet you that's her," He said, and started towards her.  
Before he could get very far, I reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back towards Sam and I.  
"Who do you think she'll be more likely to talk to- two random guys or me?" I asked, and Dean sighed, nodding in agreement. I smirked at the two boys and walked up to the girl, tapping her on the shoulder. She spun around and looked like she was about to hit me, but once she saw that I wasn't a threat, she relaxed.  
"Hey, you're Amy, right?"  
She nodded quickly.  
"I heard about Troy- I'm really sorry.."  
"I'm sorry, who are you?" she asked, looking suspicious.  
"Oh, we go to the same school. I've seen you around, but we don't have any classes together. Troy and I used to be really good friends- he talked about you a lot."  
She seemed to believe me, and noticing that her guard was now down, I asked her if she had heard from him before he went missing. She told me that she last talked to him when he was driving home, and that he had promised to call her back, but never did. She told me about a local legend- a woman had been murdered on Centennial highway a while ago, and that her spirit was still out there. I thanked her and walked back to Sam and Dean.  
"Okay, how about we go to the library and check this out?"

A couple hours later, we had found everything we needed, so we headed back to the bridge. An article that Sam had found had said that a woman named Constance Welch had committed suicide there back in 1981 after her two children drowned in the bathtub. We walked about halfway along the bridge, then stopped to look over the railing. Dean looked over at Sam and opened his mouth to speak.  
"So this is where Constance took the swan dive."  
"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam said, looking over at Dean.  
Dean nodded, and continued walking. I stayed at the railing, gazing off across the water. I could hear Sam and Dean arguing in the distance, but I didn't want to get involved- it was obviously between the two of them. But then I heard a noise close to me, and looked up to see a woman in a long white dress standing on the railing. I reached into my pocket for the salt I always carried with me and called out to Sam and Dean.  
"Hey guys? You might want to take a look at this."  
She turned to look at me with dark, sad eyes before stepping over the side of the bridge, falling to the water below. Sam and Dean ran over to the railing, but by the time they got to me, she had vanished into the water below. Then we heard a noise from behind us- a car's engine. We all turned to look, and saw that the Impala's lights were on and the engine was running.  
"Uh, Dean? Who's driving your car?" I asked, starting to back away. Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket and slowly jingled them, and the car jerked into motion with a deep growl. We turned and started running as fast as we could, but we weren't fast enough. The wind whipped my hair into my face and I could barely see, but I grabbed the railing next to me and hurriedly climbed on top of it in time to see the boys throw themselves over the side of the bridge.  
Sam managed to catch himself on the edge of the bridge, but Dean wasn't as lucky. He had fallen into the water, and as he stumbled towards us, I saw that he was covered in mud. I tried to hold back my laughter but failed, and Sam quickly joined me. Dean pretended to shake his head at us in annoyance, but quickly broke down as well. After we had finally stopped laughing, we got into the car and drove away in search of the nearest hotel.

We finally found one after driving all night, and went into the lobby to check in. The clerk gave Dean a very strange look, and I thought it was because he was covered in mud, but I was wrong.   
“You guys having a reunion or something?” The clerk asked, looking at the credit card Dean had given him.   
“What do you mean?” Sam looked at the clerk in confusion.  
“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.”  
“Yeah, something like that. Can you possibly tell us which room he’s in? We haven’t seen him in a while- we’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” I said, moving closer to the counter and looking the clerk in the eyes.   
“W-well, I’m really not supposed to…”  
Dean rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet, pulling out a 20 before slapping it on the counter in front of the man. “But I think I can make an exception just this once.”

Once Sam had picked the lock on the door, we quickly entered the room, locking the door behind us. Sam and Dean immediately started looking around the room, and I knelt down on the floor next to a large ring of salt.   
“Hey, guys? Salt and cats-eye shells. He was trying to keep something from coming in,” I told them, before standing up and brushing stray grains of salt away from my knees.   
Dean looked at me with concern before turning back to the walls, which were covered in newspaper articles, pictures and post-it-notes, and I got up to join him.   
“What have you got here?” Sam asked.  
“Centennial Highway Victims,” Dean answered, leaning towards the pictures on the wall to get a closer look.  
“Guys, I don’t get it. These men have nothing in common- different jobs, ages, ethnicities…. Is there something we don’t know?” I asked, and Sam crossed the room to look at another wall. He turned on the lamp and stopped in his tracks once he saw what was on the wall.   
“Dad figured it out.”  
Dean turned to look at him, obviously confused.  
“What do you mean?” he asked, walking over to the wall. I followed him, and saw what Sam was talking about.   
“Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white,” I told Dean, reaching out to tap an article on the wall.  
“You sly dogs,” Dean said, and opened his mouth to say more, but was quickly silenced by a well-placed kick in the calf. He turned to look at me in annoyance, but kept quiet once he noticed the death glare aimed at him. He turned back to Sam, who was still looking at the picture of the woman.   
“All right, so if we’re dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it”  
“She might have another weakness,” Sam interjected, turning to look at me and Dean.  
“Well, Dad would want to make sure- he’d dig her up,” Dean said, looking back at me. “Does it say where she’s buried?” I asked, and Sam shook his head, turning away.  
“ No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I’d go ask her husband. If he’s still alive.”   
“All right. Why don’t you see if you can find an address- I’m gonna get cleaned up,” Dean said, starting to walk away. I moved to sit on the bed, making myself comfortable. Judging by the way he looked, that would take a while. But before he got to the bathroom, Sam turned to look at him.  
“Hey, Dean?”   
Dean stopped, and turned back towards his brother.   
“What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad… I’m sorry.”  
I turned to look at him, confused, and was about to ask him what he meant, but Dean held up his hand before I could say anything.   
“No chick-flick moments.”  
Sam laughed and nodded.  
“All right. Jerk.”  
“Bitch.”   
“Dicks,” I said, and they both turned to look at me. They both laughed, but Sam’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he turned away quickly. Dean disappeared into the bathroom, and Sam crossed over to the mirror, his back still to me.   
“H-hey, Sam?” I stammered, and he stopped walking.   
“Yeah?”  
“I really missed you, you know.”  
Sam turned to look at me with tears in his eyes, and slowly walked over to the side of the bed before sitting down next to me. He slung his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close to his side, and I leaned my head into his large shoulder.  
“I missed you too, El.”


	3. We Got Work to Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the chapter :)

I woke up the next morning to Dean hovering two inches from my face. This was not the first time he had done this, so I opened my eyes slowly, blinked once, and proceeded to punch him in the stomach. He groaned and fell over next to me, and I sat up and laughed.  
“Every time, Dean! You fall for it every time!”  
“Ah, shut up,” Dean grumbled as he got off the bed, rubbing his stomach.  
Sam shot us an annoyed look from the couch, where he was listening to his voicemail. That look didn’t last long though- it’s awfully hard to look annoyed when you’re being violently tickled. After a few minutes of that, I gave up, and turned to Dean.  
“Hey, I’m starving. You?”  
“Yeah, me too. I’m gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street- you want anything?” Dean asked, putting his jacket on.  
“French fries please!” I yelled, making my way to the bathroom.  
“Who the hell eats French Fries for breakfast?” I heard him mutter to Sam as I closed the door.  
“Ella, apparently,” Sam responded, trying to listen to his voicemail again.  
“You want anything, Sammy?”  
“No,” he answered, only half-paying attention.  
“AND DON’T FORGET THE RANCH!” I yelled at Dean just before the door swung shut.  
I threw on a black tank top, ripped skinny jeans, and my favorite red flannel, and attempted to tame my crazy-curly hair before giving up and throwing on my favorite black beanie. I adjusted my small silver septum ring and put on a little mascara before I opened the door and flopped down on the bed. Sam looked up and did a double take.  
“What? Is there something in my hair?” I asked, frantically patting at the long dark curls.  
“No… You just look different, that’s all,” Sam said, putting his phone down on the couch next to him.  
“Well yeah, the last time you saw me I was 14, Sammy. Things change,” I responded, pulling on socks and my favorite black work boots.  
“Yeah, I guess they do,” Sam said, smiling slightly.  
Then his phone started ringing, and he grabbed for it, knocking it off the couch. He scrambled onto his hands and knees to grab it and found it, holding it up triumphantly. But when he looked at the screen, his face fell slightly, and he rolled his eyes before answering.  
“What?”  
He stood up quickly and held up five fingers in my direction, and I quietly started gathering my stuff.  
“What about you?” Sam asked as I handed him his bag, and he started shoving stuff in.  
Dean must have hung up on the other end, because Sam threw his phone in the bag and peeked out the window before darting back behind the curtain.  
“Come on, let’s go,” Sam said, throwing our stuff out of the bathroom window before helping me climb out. He followed me soon after, and we ran towards the Impala and got in.  
Later that night, as we were driving along the nearest highway after stopping to see Joseph Welch, my phone rang. I pulled it out and saw that it was a number that I didn’t have saved in my phone, and held up the phone so Sam could see before answering.  
“Fake 911 call, El? Nice one,” Dean said through the phone.  
“You’re welcome,” I smirked, and Sam snorted from the driver's seat.  
“Listen, we gotta talk,” Dean said, and I frowned.  
“Yeah, you think? So apparently Constance’s husband was unfaithful- we’re definitely dealing with a woman in white. Apparently she’s buried behind her old house, so that should have been John’s next stop.”  
Sam motioned for me to hand him the phone.  
“Yeah, but we can’t figure out why Dad hasn’t destroyed the corpse yet,” Sam said, keeping his eyes on the road.  
After a short pause, Sam’s eyes widened, and when I poked him to ask what was happening, he put the phone on speaker.  
“Dean, what’s going on?” I asked, thinking something had happened.  
“He’s gone. Dad left Jericho,” Dean responded, sounding extremely frustrated.  
“How do you know?” Sam asked urgently, trying to stay calm.  
“I’ve got his journal.”  
Sam and I both froze and stared at each other in shock before I managed to stutter out a response.  
“B-but he doesn’t go anywhere without it!”  
Dean sighed heavily on the other end, and I could hear him scratching at the wall of the phone booth.  
“Yeah, well, he did this time.”  
“What’s it say?” Sam asked, and we both leaned forward to hear his response.  
“Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where we’re going.”  
“Coordinates,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “Where to?”  
“I’m not sure yet.”  
Sam sighed and pushed his hair out of his face before he spoke again.  
“ I don’t understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out on the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?”  
Suddenly, Sam looked up and slammed on the brakes, scaring the crap out of me. I looked up as well and pushed my hair out of my face to see Constance staring at us from the road. The car went right through her as it finally stopped, and we both sat completely still, breathing hard.  
“Sam? Ella?” came Dean’s voice from the cupholder, where Sam had dropped the phone.  
I looked in the rearview mirror and almost screamed- Constance was now sitting in the backseat, staring at us with dark, cold eyes. 

 

“Take me home!” Constance yelled, startling me, but Sam just stared back at her with a hard look in his eyes.  
“No.”  
I turned to Sam in shock, but he didn’t move. I looked back in the rearview mirror, and saw that Constance was now glaring directly at us. Then we heard a loud click, and saw that the doors had automatically locked. Then the car shot forward, and Sam grabbed the wheel and tried to steer, but couldn’t- Constance had taken complete control of the car.  
“GUYS!” Dean yelled from the phone, making me jump.  
“Dean, we’re fine, but we have a problem. It’s Constance- she’s taken control of the car.”  
I pulled the phone away from my ear as Dean let out a long stream of curse words that only he could have strung together, waited a minute for the swearing to stop, then put the phone back to my ear.  
“You done?” I said, sighing.  
“NO!” Dean yelled, but managing to stop himself from letting out another colorful stream of words.  
“Dean, she’s taking us to her house. You better get there fast- she is NOT happy” I said, glancing into the rearview mirror at a very unhappy Constance.  
Dean hung up, and we drove for a few minutes before pulling up to an old, abandoned house. The car stopped, and the lights and engine shut off.  
“Don’t do this,” Sam pleaded, looking back at her through the mirror.  
“I can never go home”, she said in a small, gazing longingly into Sam’s eyes. I almost felt sorry for her…. But that didn’t last long.  
“You’re scared to go home,” Sam said, understanding dawning on his face. He looked up at the mirror and saw that she had disappeared, and turned around to look into the backseat. But as soon as he turned back, she climbed onto his lap, shoving him back against the seat so hard that the chair reclined. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and tried to get out of the car, but the doors were still locked.  
“Hold me. I’m so cold,” she pleaded, stroking Sam’s face with her ghostly hand. He continued to struggle.  
“You can’t kill me,” he spat, glaring at her with hatred in his eyes. “I’m not unfaithful. I’ve never been!”  
She smirked and leaned in closer until their noses almost touched, and Sam’s eyes grew wide.  
“You will be.”  
She leaned close and kissed Sam, pushing him down into the seat. He kept struggling, trying to reach for the keys.  
“I SO did not need to see this,” I gasped, grabbing the keys from the ignition and handing them to Sam.  
Constance pulled herself back and disappeared, a dark shadow passing across her face as she vanished. Sam shot up in his seat and looked around for a moment, then looked at me in confusion.  
“Where’d she- AAAHHH!”  
He screamed in pain as he was slammed back against the chair, yanking his hoodie open to reveal five new holes burned through the fabric. Constance reappeared on top of him, her ghostly fingers reaching into his chest, seemingly attempting to rip his heart out. I struggled to pull the gun we always kept in the car out of the glove compartment, but stopped when I heard a yell from outside the car.  
“ELLA, GET DOWN!”  
By now I knew that if someone is screaming at you to get down and there’s a ghost nearby, you better get the hell down! I slid into the space in front of the chair and pulled my arms over my head just in time for a shower of broken glass to rain down on me as a bullet pierced through the shotgun window. Constance shot up quickly and glared at Dean before vanishing, but she reappeared a second later. This time, I was ready for her,and shot her directly in the heart until she disappeared again. Sam sat up and started the car, and I quickly opened the door and rolled out onto the ground as Sam slammed the gas pedal and shot through the side of the house. Dean ran over to me and helped me up, scanning me for any injuries.  
“You okay, kid?” he asked, looking at me frantically.  
I nodded and brushed myself off, and once he was sure that I was okay, we both ran to check on Sam. Dean pushed through the wreckage while I hung back, ready to shoot Constance if she appeared again. Dean helped Sam out of the car, and once he had closed the door, they both turned around to see Constance standing by the door holding a picture of her children. She glared at them darkly and threw the picture down, and a cabinet flew towards the brothers, pinning them to the car. She turned to me and was about to do the same thing when the lights flickered, and she looked up with a terrified expression on her face. Water started to flow down the staircase, and I quickly made my way over to Sam and Dean.  
“You guys okay?” I asked, and they nodded, but the cabinet still wouldn’t budge. The water continued to pour down the stairs, and suddenly, two children appeared, holding hands at the top of the stairs.  
“You’ve come home to us, Mommy,” they said together, and then flickered so they stood behind her. They reached out to her and hugged her tightly, and she screamed, starting to flicker rapidly. In a surge of bright, fiery light, she and her children melted into a puddle on the floor, and all was still.  
I helped Sam and Dean move the cabinet away from them, Dean giving it a sharp kick just for good measure.  
“So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean said stepping closer to the piddle and glaring down at it.  
“That’s why she could never go home,” I said wearily, and Sam turned to look at me, surprised.  
“Yeah. She was too scared to face them,” he said, putting his arm around me and pulling me close to his side. He looked down at me with concern written all over his face.  
“You okay, Ella?” he asked quietly as I leaned my head into his shoulder.  
“Yeah, Sam. I’m okay,” I said, smiling up at him before looking back at Dean, who was still standing in the same spot.  
“You found her weak spot,” Dean said, walking over to Sam and smacking his chest where he was injured. Sam laughed, obviously in pain, and I rolled my eyes at Dean’s back as he walked over to the car, leaning over to inspect it.  
“Hey Sammy?” Dean asked, twisting around with a smirk on his face. I sighed and walked over to stand next to him, leaning on the side of the car.  
“If you screwed up my car? I’ll kill you.”  
Sam and I laughed, and Dean reached out to pull the beanie off of my head and put it on his own. I laughed at how ridiculous he looked before jumping on his back and wrapping my long legs around his waist so I could wrestle it off his head, Once I managed to put it back in its proper place, I jumped off of Dean and ran over to the back door of the Impala, diving in before Dean could catch me. Dean shook his head and laughed out loud before climbing into the driver’s seat, and Sam quickly followed suit. Dean pulled out of the wreckage of the house and we started towards the highway, leaving large clouds of dust in our wake. 

We drove for awhile in silence, the only sound coming from the radio, which was playing a cassette Dean had made for me when John was out on a hunt and I was too scared to sleep. The soft sounds of the piano were making it very hard to keep my eyes open, but the second I heard Sam’s voice, I snapped back to attention.  
“Okay, here’s where Dad went.”  
I leaned forward in my seat so that I could rest my chin on Dean’s shoulder, and he reached back to ruffle my hair.  
“It’s called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado,” Sam said, looking at the map he had spread out on his lap, lit up by a flashlight he had tucked under his chin.  
Dean nodded. “Sounds charming. How far?”  
Sam sighed before responding “About six hundred miles.”  
I could feel Dean sit up a little straighter in his chair, and even though I couldn’t see his face, I could picture it perfectly in my mind- his eyes shining with hope as he turned to look at his brother.  
“Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning,” Dean grinned, and I felt my heart sink in my chest when Sam didn’t respond. After a long pause, Sam finally spoke.  
“Dean, I, um…”  
I felt Dean sink lower in his seat, and he was silent for a second before he spoke in a flat, dull voice.  
“You’re not going.”  
Sam looked down at his lap and sighed before he turned to look at me with sad eyes.  
“The interview’s in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam said, trying to meet my eyes, but I looked away and leaned back in my seat, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. Dean looked back at me in the rearview mirror and smiled weakly before he turned to Sam, nodding disappointedly.  
“Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” he said, returning his attention back to the road. He glanced at Sam one more time before he sighed.  
“I’ll take you home.”  
Sam turned off the flashlight, and we continued to drive. I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer, and spent the rest of the drive silently crying in the back seat. Sam kept turning to look at me, but after a while, he gave up, and stared out the window in silence. 

We finally pulled up to Stanford, and Sam got out of the car, leaning over to look through the window.  
“Call me if you find him?” Sam said, and Dean nodded silently. Sam then turned to look at me, and I couldn’t take it any longer- I opened the door, shot out of the car, and wrapped my arms around him, sobbing. Sam held me for what felt like forever, stroking my hair and telling me it would be alright and that I would see him again before I let him go and looked up at him, tears till streaming down my face. He wiped them away and leaned down to kiss me on the forehead before walking away, turning back to wave at Dean when he reached the doorway. I stood by the side of the car until the door closed behind him, and then I climbed into the passenger seat. Dean took one look at me and pulled me into his arms.  
“It’s okay, El. He’ll be fine,” he reassured me, and once I stopped shaking, he let me go and started the engine to drive away. But before we could get very far, we heard a yell from the direction of Sam’s floor, and his window glowed with what could only be fire.  
Dean looked at me in shock before we both opened our doors and sprinted towards the building, not slowing down except to kick the front door open. We ran into the room and saw Jess pinned to the ceiling, blood soaking her nightgown around her stomach. Sam was still on the bed, one arm raised to shield his face. It took both of us to pull him away from her and out the door, and we had just pulled him down the stairs and out of the building when flames engulfed the apartment.  
Sam fell to his knees in shock, and I threw myself down next to him and pulled him into my arms. He rested his head on my chest and sobbed, and Dean held both of us so tightly we could barely breathe until the firemen came.  
Once the flames had almost been put out, Sam got up and walked over to the car, opened the trunk, and stood there for a second before pulling out a shotgun. Dean got up and reached his hand down to me, pulling me to my feet, and we walked over to him. When we reached hi, I put my hand on his shoulder and he turned around, his face like a wall of stone. He looked at me for a second before turning to Dean, and nodded before tossing the shotgun into the trunk.  
“We got work to do.”


	4. Phantom Traveler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

And work we did. We took out a Wendigo in Colorado and a vengeful spirit in Wisconsin, and had finally crashed in a motel along Route 43. I woke up to the sound of the motel door opening and quickly sat up to look at Dean, who motioned for me to stay quiet as he slid his hand under his pillow to grab his knife. Once the door had fully opened, he turned to look, and relaxed once he saw it was Sam. He was carrying three coffees and a bag of pastries, looking wide awake despite the time.   
“Morning, sunshines!” Sam said, closing the door behind him by kicking it with his heel. Dean groaned and rubbed his eyes, flopping back onto his stomach on the bed, while Sam put our breakfast down on the small table. I pushed my bangs out of my face and looked up at Sam wearily.  
“Sam, what time is it?”  
“Uh, it’s about 5:45,” Sam answered, before sitting down at the table and grabbing one of the coffees.   
“In the morning?” Dean asked grumpily, trying to smooth his hair down. Once he noticed that it wasn’t going anywhere, he gave up, rolled over and sat up, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like a death threat.  
“Ugh. Do you have a death wish?” I asked sarcastically before I got out of bed and walked over to the table, grabbing my iced coffee and a Danish. I sat down at the table with Sam, who looked at me and laughed.   
“Nice hair, Ella,” he said, before returning to his coffee.   
“Yep. You so have a death wish,” I sighed, trying to fix my ponytail.   
“Did you get any sleep last night, Sammy?” Dean asked, finally getting out of bed to grab his coffee.   
“Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours,” he answered, obviously lying.   
“Liar. ‘Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial,” Dean smirked, grabbing two donuts. Sam smirked and took a sip of his coffee before he spoke.  
“Hey, what can I say? It’s riveting TV,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at me. I smiled back at him before returning my attention to my breakfast. Dean shook his head and looked at Sam.  
“When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” he asked, trying again to smooth down his hair.   
“I don’t know- a little while, I guess. It’s not a big deal,” Sam answered, shrugging.  
“Yeah, sure. We both know that when you don’t get your sleep you get cranky,” I said, shoving the rest of my Danish in my mouth and getting up to grab my clothes.   
“I’m gonna take a shower, okay?” I said, ruffling Dean’s hair as I made my way to the bathroom. He tried to smack my hand away, but I was too quick for him, and as I closed the bathroom door I could hear him muttering “one of these days, I swear…”  
I quickly showered, and was debating whether to wash my hair or not when I heard Dean’s muffled voice through the door, saying something about Jess.  
“Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?”   
I tried to grab my shampoo and listen at the same time, but promptly dropped the bottle on my foot. I swore loudly, and I could hear Sam and Dean laughing at me. Rolling my eyes, I started scrubbing my scalp while I continued to eavesdrop.   
“Yeah, but it’s not just her. It’s everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. Man, it gets to you,” Sam said, and I could tell he meant it.  
“You can't let it. You can’t bring it home like that,” Dean told him.  
“So, what? All this, it never keeps you up at night?” Sam asked, and I had to choke down my laughter. Apparently Sam had never seen the knife under Dean's pillow. I put conditioner in my hair and rinsed for a few seconds before shutting the shower off and wrapping a towel around my body. The rest of their conversation was cut off by the sound of my hairdryer as I attempted to at least dry my hair enough that water wouldn’t be dripping down my back for an hour. I gave up after about 10 minutes and threw some clothes on, leaving my hair down. Just as I had finished getting dressed, I heard a knock on the door, and opened it to see Dean holding his phone up.   
“Hey, we got a case,” he said, looking pleased.   
“Yeah, what’s up?” I said, going back to the mirror to put on some eyeliner and mascara. He looked at me for a second and was about to say something before he noticed me glaring at him, daring him to make a comment, and decided to stay quiet. He shook his head at me before continuing to tell me about the case.  
“Hey, you remember that Jerry Panowski guy?”  
“Sounds vaguely familiar. Wasn’t he the guy who had the poltergeist problem in in Kittanning?” I asked, putting the stuff back in my bag and moving past him to put it in my backpack.  
“Yeah, that’s the guy. Anyway, he said he had another problem, but wouldn't discuss it on the phone. We’re heading out in a few- you ready?” he said, grabbing his jacket from the bedside table.   
“Yeah, I’m ready. You’re showering, right?” Dean looked at me with a puzzled look on his face, and I sighed and gave him a pointed look.  
“Sure. How about you and Sammy go load up the car- I’ll be out in a few,” he said before going into the bathroom and closing the door. I looked at Sam and he nodded at me, and I slung my backpack over my shoulder before heading out to the car, grabbing a pillow from the bed. Sam looked at me with one eyebrow raised, and I shrugged at him.   
“Dude, the sun’s barely up. Besides, who knows when I’ll have the chance to sleep on a clean pillow again, and Dean got blood all over my favorite one,” I said, throwing my stuff in the backseat. Sam grinned and hopped into the passenger seat, and we sat for a few minutes before Dean came out, hair dripping everywhere. He opened the backseat door, stuck his head in and shook like a wet dog, spraying both me and Sam with water. I yelled at him and smacked him with my pillow, and Sam just rolled his eyes and told him to get in the car. He jumped in and we drove off, blasting Survivor.  
We pulled up to the hangar a couple hours later and Sam jumped out of the car to stretch his legs while I grabbed my backpack and Dean pulled the key from the ignition. A balding man walked toward us, and as he got closer, I recognized him- Jerry, the guy Dean, John, and I had helped with the poltergeist. He reached out to shake Sam and Dean’s hands before turning to me with a huge grin on his face.  
“I almost didn’t recognize you, Ella!” he said, reaching out to pull me into a hug.  
“It’s only been a few years, Jerry- I haven’t changed that much,” I laughed, smirking at him.  
“Anyway, thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Ella, Dean, and your dad really helped me out,” Jerry said, motioning for us to follow him. Sam looked at him, surprised.  
“Wait, Ella was actually on the hunt? I thought you and Dad just brought her along because you didn’t want to leave her alone?” he asked, and Dean shook his head.  
“Nope, she worked the hunt. She was actually pretty damn good at it too- saved my ass from that poltergeist,” Dean responded, slinging his arm over my shoulders and looking down at me proudly.   
“Yeah, the thing practically tore our house apart. Tell you something- if it wasn’t for you two and John, I probably wouldn’t be alive. Your dad said you were off at college- is that right?” Jerry said, leading us past a rack of spare parts.   
“Yeah, I was. I’m… taking some time off,” Sam responded, looking down.  
“Well, he was real proud of you- I could tell. He talked about you all the time,” Jerry said, as we got closer to his office door. Sam looked at him in confusion.   
“He did?”  
“Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know, I tried to get ahold of him, but I couldn’t- How’s he doing anyway?”  
“He’s, uh, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean responded carefully.  
“Well, we’re missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?” Jerry said, grinning at all of us and opening his office door.   
“No, not by a long shot,” Sam said, looking down at his feet with a shy grin.  
Jerry ushered us all in and we all gathered around his desk. There were only two chairs, and, looking at Sam, both Dean and I rushed to sit before he could. When Sam realized what had just happened, he sighed and rolled his eyes.  
“What are you guys, 5?” He said, pretending to be annoyed, but that didn’t last long before he gave up and broke into a grin. Jerry looked at us fondly.   
“Well, at least some things never change,” he said, before sitting down at his desk and getting back to business. “I got something I want you guys to hear. Sounded like it was up your alley.”  
He pulled out a CD and put it into the machine and Sam, Dean, and I leaned closer to the desk.  
“Normally I wouldn’t have access to this- it’s the cockpit voice recorder for United Brittania flight 2485. It was one of ours,” Jerry said as he pressed play.   
We listened to what sounded to be the last moments before the plane crashed, and Jerry told us that the plane had taken off from the airport and ended up about 200 miles south. Everyone thought it had been a mechanical failure- the cabin had somehow managed to depressurize during the flight, killing everyone on board except for seven people. One of them was the pilot, Chuck Lambert- a good friend of Jerry’s. He was apparently pretty broken up about it and thought it was his fault, but Jerry disagreed. Once Jerry had finished talking, Sam leaned forward.   
“Jerry, we’re gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors…” Sam said, and Jerry nodded in agreement.   
“And, uh, anyway we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean asked, looking at me. I nodded and looked at Jerry to see him frowning and shaking his head.  
“The other stuff is no problem, but the wreckage… the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I’ve got that kind of clearance.”  
Dean turned to look at me, frowning,and was about to speak up before I smirked at him and cut him off.   
“No problem.”

We went to the nearest copy store so Dean could put together the IDs we needed. After a while, we saw him walking towards the door with a smug grin on his face. As he exited, a woman was entering, and they greeted each other- I could see them checking each other out. I looked at Sam and rolled my eyes, and Sam sighed before stepping away from where he had been leaning against the side of the car.   
“You’ve been in there forever.”  
Dean grinned and held up three IDs before tossing one to me and one to Sam, who looked up at him in surprise.  
“Homeland Security? That’s pretty illegal, even for us.”   
“Yeah, well, it’s something new, you know? People haven’t seen it a thousand times,” Dean retorted before getting in the driver’s seat.   
“Which makes them more likely to remember us, dumbass!” I pointed out, smacking him on the shoulder. He turned around and was about to make what was most likely a smartass response before his face fell and he shrugged.  
“Yeah, good point. Too late now,” he said, as he turned to look at Sam, who had been messing with the tape from the plane.  
“So, what do you got?”  
“Well, there’s definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam said before pressing play. It sounded like mostly static, but then we heard it- a scratchy voice, proclaiming ‘no survivors’. I turned to Sam, confused.  
“What’s that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors, right?”  
Sam nodded, but seemed just as confused as I was.   
“Got me.”  
Dean looked at him thoughtfully. “So, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?”  
Sam shrugged. “Well, there’s a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers…  
“Wait, like flight 401?” I interjected, and Sam and Dean looked back at me, nodding.   
“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put them in other planes, then the spirits of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights,” Dean said, and Sam nodded at him.   
“Maybe we got a similar deal.”  
Dean agreed before turning so he could see me better. “All right, so, survivors. Which one should we talk to first?”  
I shrugged, but Sam had already made his decision.   
“Third on the list- Max Jaffey.”  
“Why him?” Dean asked.  
“Well, for one, he’s from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did,” Sam said, and I looked at him, not understanding what he meant.   
“Why him?” I asked, leaning forward to look at Sam.   
“Remember the phone call I made while we were waiting for Dean? That was Max’s mother, and she told me where to find him- Riverfront Psychiatric hospital.”  
I froze, and Dean spun to look at me with worry in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but I shot him a pleading look and motioned silently to Sam. He stayed silent, but kept watching me, waiting for my response. Sam looked at both of us with a puzzled look on his face, and I sighed before looking Dean in the eyes and nodding silently.   
“Let’s go.”  
We drove in silence, Dean looking back at me every so often through the rearview mirror with worry shining in his eyes. I managed a weak smile, but as we got closer to the hospital, it became harder to pretend that nothing was bothering me. We pulled into the parking lot and into a free spot by the entry, and once he had stopped the car, Dean turned to look at me.   
“El, you don’t have to do this… You can stay in the car if you want,” He said quietly, but I shook my head.   
“No, Dean, it’s fine,” I said, trying to hide how bad my hands were shaking. Sam looked at Dean quizzically before turning to me,not knowing what we were talking about. I shook my head at him and mouthed that I would tell him later, and got out of the car. He turned to Dean and looked like he was about to ask him what was going on, but Dean shook his head and I could hear him say “Not now, Sam. It’s not for me to tell.”   
We made our way to the front desk, flashed our IDs, and the nurse showed us to the garden, where we found Max sitting on a bench with a cane tucked between his knees. Sam and Dean approached him with me trailing slightly behind- I looked too young to be working with Homeland Security, so I was introduced as their trainee. Besides, I was way too shaky to play the part of a full-fledged agent- my nervous energy fit the part of the wide-eyed newbie much better. I could hear them talking quietly, but my mind was elsewhere. I stared off into the distance for what seemed like hours, but must have only been a few minutes, when Dean approached me and put a hand on my shoulder. I jumped slightly and spun around to face him, but as soon as I saw it was him, I calmed down slightly.   
“Hey, we’re done here. You okay?” he asked, bending down so he could look me in the eyes.   
“Not really, but I’ll feel better once we get out of here,” I answered shakily, and he nodded as we made our way to the car.   
Once we had all gotten in, Sam told me what they had learned- Max had checked himself in after the crash because he thought he was seeing things. Specifically, he thought he saw a passenger on the plane open the emergency exit in the back of the plane, which should have been impossible. The man’s name was George Phelps, and he was in the seat in front of Max. Sam and Dean had gotten his address from the passenger manifest, and we decided to head there to talk to his wife. 

“Man, I don’t care how strong you are- even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during the flight,” Dean said as we got out of the car.  
“Not if you’re human,” I pointed out.  
“Yeah, maybe this guy George was something else. Some kind of creature, maybe, in human form,” Sam said, nodding at me.   
“Does that look like a creature’s lair to you?” Dean smirked, nodding his head towards the house.  
“Appearances can be deceiving, Dean,” I said as I started walking up to the door.  
George's wife answered the door, and after we showed her our badges, she invited us in, and showed us to the living room. It looked perfectly normal- magazines scattered across the coffee table, family photos on the walls, the whole nine yards. Sam and Dean sat on the couch across from her while I sat down gently in the chair next to her, resisting the urge to flop onto the chair and cross my legs underneath me. Sam grabbed one of the photos from the table next to him, and held it up so she could see.   
“This is your late husband?”  
“Yes, that was my George,” she said, tears filling her eyes.   
“And you said he was a… dentist?” Dean chimed in, leaning towards her.   
“Yes. He was headed to a convention in Denver… do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…” she trailed off, wiping at her eyes. I reached for her hands and held them in my own, offering some much-needed comfort.   
“Mrs. Phelps, how long were you married?” I asked quietly.  
“Thirteen years.”  
“In all that time, did you ever notice anything strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?” Sam asked, and she shook her head before pausing to reconsider.  
“Well… uh, he had acid reflux, if that’s what you mean.”  
I caught Dean’s eye and shook my head almost imperceptibly before turning back to Mrs. Phelps.   
“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. If you need anything, anything at all, feel free to call us.” I handed her one of our fake business cards and stood up to leave, smiling slightly at her as we walked out the door and down the stairs. Once we reached the car, I turned to the two brothers.   
“Okay, this makes no sense. George Phelps was a middle-aged dentist with a fear of flying and an ulcer- he doesn’t sound like an evil creature to me,” I said as I climbed into the backseat.   
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Sam said, shutting the passenger-side door and turning to look at me. Dean nodded in agreement.   
“You know, what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage,” Dean pointed out as he started the car.  
“Yeah, but we need to make a stop first- no way will we pass for Homeland Security agents looking like this,” I interjected, looking pointedly at Sam and Dean's outfits.   
Sam nodded. “I saw a store in town that we can go to- it’s not far.”  
“All right, let’s go,” Dean said, and we pulled away from the curb and set off into town.

About half an hour later, we walked out of the suit rental shop in matching black suits with white shirts, looking like proper agents.   
“Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers,” Dean muttered, pulling at his collar.   
“You’re complaining? They put me in a freaking skirt!” I hissed, trying to pull the tight black pencil skirt down towards my knees. I had protested when the clerk gave it to me, but Dean gave me a look telling me not to argue, so I put the damn thing on anyway. I had to admit, it didn’t look bad- it hugged my curves well and even had a couple-inches-long slit in front of my left leg, but still.  
“El, you look fine,” Sam insisted, but I could see him trying to hold back his laughter.   
“I swear to God, if I have to run in this god damn skirt, I’m going to trip and fall and die!” I yelled, getting strange looks from the people walking by us.   
“You’ll be fine kid. Now get in the car- I don’t like the way that guy’s looking at you,” Dean said, and I rolled my eyes at him.   
“Dean, remember the last time some douche-canoe tried to hit on me and you thought I couldn’t handle myself?” I said, crossing my arms defiantly and standing up as straight as possible. Dean laughed, knowing exactly what I was talking about.   
“What did you do?” Sam asked, looking quizzically at his brother, who was laughing so hard tears were coming out of his eyes.   
“Let’s just say if he ever has children in the future, it’ll be a medical miracle,” I said coyly, and got into the car, somehow managing not to flash the entire street.  
Sam looked at Dean, who was wiping tears away from his eyes, and was speechless for a second before he managed to squeeze out a response.   
“Did she really do that?”  
“Yep. You should have seen that son of a bitch cry,” Dean managed to say, finally getting himself under control.   
“Huh,” Sam said in amazement, before he and Dean got in the car and we pulled away.


	5. Skirts and Sulfur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in case you couldn’t tell by the first sentence of this story, there’s going to be a little bit of language. If you don’t like seeing that kind of thing, then this might be a good time to find another story to read- Ella tends to get very… creative with her insults. (AKA this is what happens when you let me watch Archer)   
> Okay, now that I’ve gotten that warning out of the way, I hope you enjoy the story, and don’t be afraid to let me know what you think- I’m always looking for feedback on how I could make the story better :)

“I TOLD YOU THIS SHIT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN!!!” I screamed at Dean as he, Sam and I ran out of the warehouse to a symphony of blaring alarms. Turns out that real agents showed up about five minutes after we did, and managed to leave quietly- and then the alarms started. We got to a gated exit with barbed wire along the top, and Dean threw his jacket over the wire and climbed over the fence. Sam quickly followed him, leaving me on the other side of the fence. I swore loudly, grabbed the two sides of the slit in my skirt, and ripped the skirt up to my thigh before hurling myself over the fence and landing hard on the other side. I looked up at Sam and Dean, who were staring at me in shock.   
“Uh…. Ella, that was….” Sam stuttered.   
“AWESOME!” Dean yelled, giving me a high five before tearing towards the car. Rolling my eyes, I sprinted after him, Sam right behind me. We threw ourselves into the car and peeled out of the lot, and once we were safely on the road back to the airport hangar, I leaned forward so Sam and Dean could hear me over the music.   
“I swear to God, if anyone ever puts me in a skirt to go undercover EVER AGAIN, I am going to KILL THEM!” I hissed. The two boys were silent for a moment before cracking up, and I tried my best to be stoic but gave up, and we spent the next five minutes howling with laughter. 

By the time we got back to the hangar, I had put my jeans back on and thrown the jacket at Sam’s head, and I felt much more like myself. I took my hair out of the tight ponytail it was in and shook my head, and my hair fell around my face in its usual wild curls. We stepped out of the car and made our way to Jerry’s office, and he greeted us brightly. We handed him the bag of yellow dust from the emergency door handle and he grabbed a microscope to get a closer look. After a few minutes, he spoke up.   
“Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur.”  
“Are you sure?” Sam asked, looking at the monitor where the slide was replicated from the microscope.   
“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry said, standing up and stepping away from the table. Suddenly, we heard loud banging noises coming from outside the office, followed by a loud string of swear words. Jerry sighed.   
“If you guys would excuse me, I have an idiot to fire.”  
He stepped out of the room, and I walked over to the microscope to get a better look.   
“So what are we thinking?” I asked, turning to face Sam and Dean.   
“Demonic possession?” Sam suggested, and Dean turned to him and nodded,.  
“It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch.”  
“Yeah, but something seems off. We’ve seen demons possess people before, but using them to take down a plane? Have you guys ever heard of anything like this?” I asked, spinning the chair away from the table to face them.   
“Never,” Dean answered, and Sam shook his head.   
“Well, I guess it’s research time,” I sighed, and both boys nodded before we said goodbye to Jerry and headed back to the hotel. 

Once we got back, we started our research. Sam sat at the table with his laptop, Dean was sprawled across one of the beds with a book, and I was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a heavy book in my lap and my laptop next to me.  
“So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean, Christian, Native American, Hindu- you name it,” Sam asked, looking up at Dean.  
“Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this,” Dean answered, closing his book and raking his hand through his hair.  
“Not exactly, but listen to this- according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons cause certain disasters. There’s one that causes earthquakes, ones that cause disease..” I said, looking up at the two brothers.  
“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean questioned, getting up from the bed to walk around the room. “All right, so, what- we have a demon that’s evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?”  
“Possibly- this might not be its first rodeo,” I said, and Dean snorted and turned away.   
“What?” Sam asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.   
“I don’t know, guys. This isn’t our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don’t want anything- just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big.” Dean hesitated before continuing. “And I wish Dad was here.”  
“Yeah. Me too,” Sam chimed in, smiling weakly. Then, seemingly remembering something, he turned to me and opened his mouth.   
“Hey El?”  
“Yeah, Sammy?” I asked, looking up at him. He slid to the ground from his chair so that he sat in front of me, and hesitated for a second before continuing to speak.   
“I asked Dean something earlier, and he told me to ask you… Why was he so worried about you going into that psych hospital?”   
My heart sunk. I hoped that he had forgotten about that, but I should have known better- Sam wasn’t exactly the unobservant type. I looked down at my lap for a moment before I responded.   
“Sam…”  
Dean came and sat on the floor next to me and reached out for my hand, and I turned to look at him.   
“Listen, El- you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said quietly, but I shook my head and managed a smile.   
“I’ll be fine, Dean. He needs to know.” I squeezed Dean’s hand and turned back to Sam, who was anxiously waiting for my response.  
“After you left for college, things got bad. John went on hunt after hunt, leaving me and sometimes Dean in motels for weeks at a time. Dean tried to stay with me whenever he could, but your Dad wasn’t exactly easy to reason with,” I said, and Sam nodded his head in agreement before waiting for me to continue.   
“Anyway, one day, Dean and John went on a hunt in Texas- a demon was wreaking havoc on a small town. I wanted to come so badly, but John said no. They were gone for two weeks- Dean called when he could, but the calls became less and less frequent. And then they stopped.” I paused to catch my breath, and Dean put his arm around my shoulder, sensing I was getting overwhelmed. I smiled at him gratefully before taking a deep breath and continuing.  
“I stopped sleeping. I waited by the door all night, hoping that they would stumble in at midnight. I did this for a few nights, but on the last night, things changed. The lights kept flickering, and I started to hear whispering in the walls. And then the power went out. That’s when the panic attack started,” I said, my voice breaking. Dean pulled me closer to him and I leaned into his shoulder, not daring to look at Sam.   
“I couldn’t breathe- I was gasping and clutching my chest, fighting for air, and screaming for someone to help me. I crawled to a corner and spread a circle of salt around me, and grabbed the knife that Dean had left under his pillow.” The tears started falling down my face, but I kept talking.   
“That’s how the police found me. Someone had called them when they heard me screaming, and when they came in… they took one look at me and called the paramedics. They sedated me, and I woke up the next morning in a hospital bed with restraints around my arms. The doctors told me I was suffering from a psychotic break caused by lack of sleep- the flickering lights and whispers were just hallucinations. They tried to ask me questions, but I refused to say anything- I knew they wouldn’t believe me.” I finally broke down, and Dean pulled me into a hug and let me cry on his shoulder while he rested his chin on my head.   
“They sent you to a psych hospital, didn’t they?” Sam said quietly, and Dean nodded.   
“She stayed there for a week before she started talking again. The first thing she said was my name and cell phone number, and the hospital called me. I came and got her and took her back to the motel.” Dean continued for me.  
“Then we moved on, and everything went back to normal- but every time I enter a hospital, it feels like I’m back there- that’s why I was so out of it when we went to see Max,” I finished, and finally managed to look up at Sam. He looked stunned, and was speechless for a minute before scooting over to me and wrapping me up in a hug. I started crying all over again, but Sam just hugged me until the tears had stopped. Then he brushed my hair out of my face and looked me in the eyes before opening his mouth to speak.   
“El, I’m so sorry that happened to you… I wish I had been there to protect you,” he said quietly, and started to say something else before I cut him off.   
“It wasn’t your fault, Sam. It wasn’t anybody’s fault.”  
“How did you keep hunting?” he asked, looking at me in amazement. I laughed, remembering what Dean had done.   
“Well, Dean told me that someone needed to keep his ass out of trouble, and taught me how to throw knives,” I said, and Dean smiled at the memory.   
We all laughed, but were interrupted when Dean’s phone rang. He reached for it and answered the call.  
“Oh, hey, Jerry,” he said, before putting the phone on ground between all of us and putting him on speaker.   
“My pilot friend, Chuck Lambert is dead.”   
We all froze, before I managed to speak up.  
“Oh my God… Jerry, I’m so sorry. What happened?”  
“He and his buddy went up in a small twin about an hour ago. The plane went down about sixty miles west of here, near Nazareth.”  
“I’ll try to ignore the irony in that,” Dean responded, and I reached out to smack him.  
“I’m sorry?”  
“Nice work, jackass,” I hissed, going to smack him again. This time, though, he managed to dodge my hand.   
“Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We’ll catch up with you soon,” Dean said before hanging up. I sighed, and grabbed my bag before hopping to my feet. The two brother quickly followed.   
“Well, I guess we’re going to Nazareth,” I said, and started towards the car. “I call shotgun!”


	6. No Survivors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the last chapter was kind of short, but this one pretty much makes up for it- I had a sudden burst of motivation and decided to crank this out while it lasted.  
> Comments? Suggestions? Don’t be afraid to message me- I’m always happy to hear from you guys :)  
> Okay, enough talk from me- I hope you like this chapter!

We arrived at Jerry’s office and knocked on the door. We could hear shuffling inside, and after a minute, Jerry opened the door. He looked horrible- his tie had been loosened at some point and now hung crooked around his neck, his face was splotchy, and his eyes were dull. I quickly stepped forward and wrapped him up in a hug, which he gratefully returned before pulling away and wiping at his nose.   
“I just can’t believe he’s gone…” he trailed off, before shaking himself and standing up a little straighter. “You guys should take a look at this.”   
We followed him over to the table with the microscope, and he turned it on before gesturing to us to take a look. I stepped forward and sat down, and pushed my hair out of my face before leaning forward to look through the eyepiece.   
“Sulfur?” I asked, turning to look at Jerry, who nodded in response before telling us that it had been found at the site of the crash. Dean sighed and crossed his arms against his chest.  
“Well that’s great,” he said sarcastically before he spoke again in a more serious tone. “All right, that’s two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”  
“With all due respect to Chuck, if that’s the case, that would be the good news,” Sam chimed in, looking at me somberly.   
“And the bad news?” I questioned, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my thighs. Sam reached up to rub the back of his neck before continuing to speak.  
“Chuck’s plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this- so did flight 2485.” I looked up from the floor and locked eyes with Dean, and his worried expression mirrored mine. Jerry, however, just looked confused.   
“Forty minutes? What does that mean?”  
“According to biblical numerology, the number 40 means death. Like Noah’s Ark- it rained for 40 days,” I answered him, and Dean nodded in agreement and shot me a proud look.   
“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam added, showing us a printout detailing the crashes.   
“Any survivors?” Dean questioned, and Sam looked up and shook his head.  
“No. Or not until now, at least- not until flight 2485, for some reason,” he said, and then it hit me.   
“Son of a bitch…” I growled, and Dean turned to look at me in surprise- although whether it was because of my tone or because I had stolen his line, I had no idea. “Remember the EVP on the cockpit voice recorder?” Dean’s face lit up in understanding, and he turned to Sam.  
“No survivors,” he said somberly, and shook his head slowly before he continued. “It’s going after all the survivors- it’s trying to finish the job.” I swore under my breath and shot up from my seat, heading to the door. Dean followed close behind me, and I could hear Sam mutter a quick ‘thanks’ to Jerry before jogging to catch up with us. We all climbed in the car and Dean tossed me his phone, which I caught with one hand before strapping myself in.   
“Sam, what’s our first survivor’s number?” I asked, and he dug around in his bag for his laptop before flipping it open and rattling off the number. “How are we gonna play this?”   
Sam smirked and turned around in his seat so I could see him better before holding up his phone. “Know anything about surveys?”

 

Fifteen minutes later, we had called all of the survivors except one- Amanda Walker, a flight attendant. I finished up my call in a fake-cheery voice before hanging up and groaning as I slumped back into my seat. Dean looked back at me through the rearview mirror and grinned at me.   
“I didn’t know it was possible for you to sound that cheery,” he quipped. I stuck my tongue out at him, making him laugh.  
“Hey, someone’s gotta do it, and you would be too busy flirting to get any information,” I retorted, and Dean opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shut it, realizing that I had a point. Sam chuckled from the passenger seat, but quickly stopped when he saw the look Dean was giving him.  
“Well, that takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway- they’re not flying anytime soon,” Sam said, and Dean nodded at him.  
“So our only wildcard is the flight attendant,” Dean answered, and looked at me for confirmation.  
“Yeah. I managed to get ahold of her sister Karen- Amanda’s flight leaves Indianapolis at 8,” I responded, and Dean muttered something about it being just our luck.  
“Dean, this is a five-hour drive man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said, but Dean shook his head and told me to call Amanda’s cell phone again.   
“I already left her three voicemails- she must have turned her phone off,” I said grimly, and tossed Dean’s phone onto his lap. He picked it up and glared at it before shoving it into his pocket. Sam slumped back into his chair and sighed.  
“God, we’ll never make it.”  
Dean looked at me through the rearview mirror with a sly grin, and I rolled my eyes and made sure my seatbelt was secure. Then I nudged Sam and motioned for him to put his on, which he did immediately- he had learned the hard way if he didn’t, he would end up with his face smashed into the dashboard.   
“We’ll make it.”   
And with that, Dean stepped on the gas, and we sped down the road.

 

We ran into the airport and immediately started searching or the departure board. I spotted it first and elbowed Sam, and we jogged up to the board, Sam pulling Dean behind him. After a few seconds, Sam found the flight and pointed to it.   
“Right there. They’re boarding in thirty minutes,” he said, and turned to Dean.  
“Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone,” he said, and spun around to look for one. I spotted a courtesy phone attached to a pole and nudged Dean, who immediately ran over and picked it up.  
“Hi. Gate thirteen,” he said, glancing up at me and Sam. “I’m trying to contact an Amanda Walker- she’s a flight attendant on flight…” he turned to look at us and shrugged.  
“424,” I said, and he repeated the numbers into the phone. He listened to the person on the other end for a moment before giving us a thumbs-up, and we both let out a sigh of relief. Then Amanda must have answered the phone on the other end, because he straightened up and pointed to the phone.   
“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here,” he said, pausing, before continuing with “Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so-” he froze and looked up at Sam and I with a panicked look on his face. “You what? Uh, well… there must be some mistake,” at this point, Dean made what could only be described as an ‘oh shit’ face, and Sam and I quickly moved closer and leaned in so we could hear what was going on.   
“Is this one of Vince’s friends?” came through the phone, and Dean looked at us for a moment before smirking.  
“Guilty as charged,” he said, and shrugged at me and Sam.  
“Wow. This is unbelievable.”  
“He’s….really sorry,” Dean said quickly. He looked over to me for help and mouthed ‘what do I do?’, and I leaned over to whisper in his ear while Amanda said something about Vince needing to mind his own business.   
“Look, I talked to him, and he’s a mess- he really needs to see you tonight. Give him one more chance?” Dean looked at me and raised an eyebrow, and I nodded in approval.   
“Really?” Amanda said, and Dean reached out to give me a quick high-five. Sam rolled his eyes at us, and I stuck my tongue out at him.   
“Look, I’ve got to go. Um… tell him to call me when I land,” she said, and Dean looked at us in a panic.   
“No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda?” he said, just before we heard a click from the other end and the line went dead.   
“Damn it!” Dean cursed, and slammed the phone down. “So close!”  
“What do we do now?” I asked, and Sam straightened up before responding.   
“All right, it’s time for Plan B- we’re getting on that plane,” Sam said, and Dean turned to him, eyes wide with shock.  
“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second,” he said, and I nodded emphatically at Sam.  
“Sam, are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, and Sam crossed his arms in exasperation.   
“Guys, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we’re right, that plane is going to crash,” he said, and turned to Dean, who let out a shaky breath.   
“Okay, so we’re getting on that plane- we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I’ll go get the tickets- you and Ella grab whatever you can from the trunk that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes,” Sam declared, and was about to walk away when he noticed the look on Dean’s face.  
“Hey, are you okay?” I asked, and put my hand on Dean’s arm. He turned to me, and I could immediately see that he wasn’t- he was as white as a ghost.   
“No, not really,’ he managed to say, and Sam gave him a look of concern.  
“What? What’s wrong?” he said, and Dean wiped sweat from his forehead, and was about to respond before I interrupted him.   
“Dean… are you afraid of flying?” I said, and he turned to look at me before nodding quickly.  
“It’s never really been an issue until now,” he said, and Sam looked at him in surprise.   
“You’re joking, right?” he said, and I shot him a look. He quickly cleared his throat and sighed, pausing for a moment before continuing to speak.   
“All right. Uh, Ella and I will go.”   
“What?” Dean asked, and Sam sighed again.  
“We’ll do this one on our own.”  
“What, are you nuts? You said it yourself, this plane’s gonna crash,” Dean sputtered, and I squeezed his arm to try to get him to calm down a little bit.  
“Dean, we can do it together, or Ella and I can do this one by ourselves,” Sam said, and I looked at Dean with concern. He really didn’t look good- he was still pretty pale, and I could see his hands start to shake. I had never seen him like this before, and I knew that he was telling the truth.   
“Dean, I can stay with you if you want- I’m pretty sure Sam can handle this on his own,” I said, and turned to Sam to see if that was okay. He didn’t look very happy about it, but he nodded in agreement. He was about to say something, but Dean straightened up and took a deep breath.   
“No, I’ll go. There’s no way I’m letting you and my little brother do this without me,” he said, turning to me, and I smiled at him.  
“It’ll be okay, Dean. Come on, we need to hurry if we’re going to make it onto that plane,” I said, and Dean and I started jogging to the car to get our stuff. I grabbed my backpack and threw some holy water, duct tape, my iPod, and a book into it, and zipped it up. Once Dean was finished, we closed the trunk and headed back inside to meet Sam. Once we had found him, we headed towards the gate.

 

Ten minutes later, we had made it onto the plane. I ended up in the middle between Sam and Dean, and I shoved my bag under the seat in front of me before pulling out my iPod and slipping my earbuds in. Sam had already claimed the window seat, and Dean sat on the aisle, still looking nervous as all get out. He pulled the safety card out of the pocket in front of him and started anxiously leafing through it before I noticed what he was doing and snatched it out of his hands, making him jump.  
“Trust me, dude- reading that will only make it worse”, I said, pulling out the earbud closest to Sam. Dean smiled gratefully at me, and I offered him the earbud. He took it, his hands still shaking slightly, and as he put it in, I found Metallica and picked a song, knowing that would calm him down. He relaxed for a bit, but as soon as the pilot announced that we were ready to take off, he tensed up again and reached for the armrest, holding onto it for dear life. I put my hand on top of his and paused the music so he could hear me better before leaning in to reassure him.  
“Dean, it’s going to be okay”, I said quietly, and he relaxed his hand enough for me to nudge his hand off the armrest and place mine facing up. He wiped his hand on his jeans before taking my hand and managing a weak smile, and then he faced forward as we took off, refusing to look out of the window. 

 

After about fifteen minutes in the air, my iPod decided to die, so Dean was leaning back in his seat and humming a song I had played earlier. Sam gave him a strange look, and leaned closer to me so he could talk to Dean, who was clutching my hand like his life depended on it.   
“You’re humming Metallica?”  
“Calms me down,” Dean responded tensely, and Sam shook his head.  
“Look, man- I get you’re nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” Sam said, and Dean nodded and took a deep breath, and his grip loosened on my hand. I smiled at him quickly before turning to Sam and speaking so Dean couldn’t hear me  
“We got thirty-two minutes and counting,” I said, trying to hide the worry in my voice and failing, “to find this damn thing- or whoever it’s possessing- and perform a full exorcism. What’s the plan?”  
“Let’s take it one step at a time, all right? Now, who is it possessing?” he said. Dean leaned forward and rested his chin on my shoulder, startling me, before he invaded the discussion.  
“It’s usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness- you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” he added, and Sam leaned closer to me so it would be harder to hear us.  
“Well, this is Amanda’s first flight after the crash- if I were her, I’d be pretty messed up.”   
Sam said, and I nodded and turned towards the aisle, catching the attention of a flight attendant.   
“Excuse me, ma’am- could I have a Diet Coke?” I asked, and Dean turned to look at me in confusion. The attendant smiled at me and nodded before walking away.  
“Why the sudden need for a drink?” Dean asked, and I rolled my eyes before answering.  
“First of all, if we’re going to be taking down a plane-crashing demon, I’m gonna need some caffeine,” I said, and Dean contemplated my answer before nodding and waiting for me to continue. “And second, I just found our girl. I was checking the attendant’s name tag- not Amanda. And there's only two female flight attendants on this plane… do the math.” I nodded towards the back of the plane, and both Sam and Dean spun around to see her standing behind the curtain, checking something on the wall. Dean nodded and moved to get up but I put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back into his seat.  
“Dean, you need to focus on not freaking out- I got this.” I stood up, and he looked at me in surprise.   
“No holy water?” he asked, and I simply shrugged in response.  
“There are easier ways to test if someone’s possessed- if she is, she’ll flinch at the name of God,” I said, and Sam looked at me and nodded.  
“You know to say it in Latin, right?” he asked, and I scoffed and leaned my elbow on the top of Dean’s seat before answering. The attendant came back with a plastic cup filled with Diet Coke and I took it from her, smiling gratefully before draining most of it in one gulp.  
“Yes, Sammy, I know,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “It’s Christo.”  
Sam nodded, and a proud smile spread across his face. “Good. I was just testing you,” he said, and I rolled my eyes again before starting towards the back of the plane, carrying my now-empty (except for way too many ice cubes) cup with me.  
Once I reached the curtain, I paused for a second and dipped my hand into my cup, flicking water onto my face and chest so I looked like I was sweating. Then I slipped behind the curtain and leaned against the wall, trying to look anxious and scared. It took her a minute to look back at me, and she noticed my ‘condition’ and turned towards me.   
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked, handing me a napkin. I patted my face and chest with it and took a deep breath before responding, trying to make my voice sound shaky.   
“Y-yeah, I’m fine- I’m just not the biggest fan of flying, and I get claustrophobic easily,” I answered, and she smiled at me.   
“Happens to the best of us,” she said, and turned around, continuing to fuss with the snack cart like she had been doing before I interrupted.  
“Yeah, but you’re a flight attendant- flying must come easy to you,” I said, continuing to wipe the “sweat” off of my face and chest. She laughed quietly before turning back to me.  
“You’d be surprised,” she said, and smiled, but I could tell that her heart wasn’t in it.   
“You’re not a fan of flying either?” I said, and she shook her head.   
“Yeah, maybe- a little bit.”  
“Do you mind if I ask why?” I said quietly, and smiled warmly at her to make her feel more at ease. She turned away, obviously uneasy.  
“Kind of a long story.”   
I nodded and apologized softly, and she turned back to me and smiled weakly. I could see that she was uneasy, and quickly shifted back to a more comfortable topic.   
“Okay, I have to ask you- how do you get your hair to look so smooth?” I said, recalling a conversation I had overheard between two girls at the mall- one of the few times I had gone shopping for new clothes. They babbled on and on about hair products and outfits and jewelry, so much so that by the time I had finished my lunch, I was exhausted. She laughed, and leaned against the wall, seeming much more relaxed.   
“Leave-in conditioner,” she said, and I nodded.   
“Hey, there’s this new brand I heard about- it’s called Christo Haircare,” I said, carefully watching her response before continuing. “Have you heard anything about it?”  
She paused and looked at me in confusion. “I’m sorry, what’s the brand?”  
“Christo Haircare? I read about it somewhere online…” I trailed off, noticing no reaction to the name of God. She shook her head, and I shrugged.  
“Never mind, I think i got the name wrong… Anyway, I should get back to my seat- my brother is probably wondering what’s taking so long,” I said, stretching my hands above my head. She smiled and said it was nice talking to me, and I said the same before turning around and going back to my seat. 

I finally reached Sam and Dean, and carefully climbed over Dean- who was now humming something that sounded suspiciously like AC/DC- and flopped down in my seat. Sam looked up from the in-flight magazine he had been reading with an expectant look on his face, and I shook my head. His face fell, and Dean looked over at us in confusion. Sam shook his head at him, and panic flashed across his face before leaning back and resuming his humming. I offered him my hand again and he took it, and I squeezed his hand reassuringly.   
“Well, she’s pretty well-adjusted for someone who almost died a few days ago,” I said, and Sam shook his head. “There’s no demon in her, and I don’t think one’s getting in either.”  
“So, if it’s on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” he responded, leaning back in his seat to stare at the ceiling. The plane started shaking, and Dean shot up in his seat and tightened his grip on my hand. I tried to hide that I was starting to panic as well, and leaned over to put my head on his shoulder. He slung his arm around me and pulled me closer to him like a stuffed animal, and Sam, noticing that I was starting to get worried as well, reached for my other hand, and I took it before burying my head into Dean’s shoulder.   
“Hey, hey, it’s just a little turbulence,” Sam said reassuringly, aimed mostly at Dean, who didn’t seem reassure at all.   
“Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I’m friggin’ four,” he hissed, and tightened his grip on me. I wiggled a little bit, trying to get some air, and he loosened his grip and smiled at me apologetically, his arm still slung around my shoulder. I smiled back up at him and rested my head on his chest . I could hear how fast his heart was beating, and lifted my head back up so I could look at him.   
“Dean, you really need to calm down,” I murmured quietly, trying to sound as calming as possible while hiding my own fear. He shook his head emphatically and Sam leaned closer to us.   
“Yes, you can,” he said, but Dean was having none of it.  
“Dude, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it’s not helping!” he growled, and Sam looked at me for help. I sighed and put my hand on Dean’s face, turning his head so I could look him in the eyes.  
“Dean, if you’re panicked, you’re wide open to demonic possession, so you have to calm yourself down, okay?” He managed to nod slightly, and I leaned my head onto his shoulder to comfort him. He rested his cheek on the top of my head and took a few deep breaths, and I could feel him relaxing slightly.   
“Good,” Sam said soothingly, before turning back to the book he had on his lap. “Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work- the Rituale Romanum.”  
I sat up and turned to him. “What do we have to do?” I asked, and I could feel Dean nodding behind me.   
“It’s two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim’s body- it makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful” Sam answered, and i instantly tensed up.   
“More powerful?” I asked, and could hear the pitch of my voice rising in panic.  
Sam looked at me in concern, and I could feel Dean’s arm tighten around my shoulder before Sam nodded his head.  
“How?” Dean asked, somehow managing to sound calmer than me (although, at this point, it wasn’t that hard).   
“Well, it doesn’t need to possess someone anymore- it can just wreak havoc on its own,” Sam answered. I started to reply, but noticing that I sounded like I had inhaled a buttload of helium, I quickly decided against it. Dean looked at me in confusion for a second before he looked back to Sam, who I was now refusing to look at.   
“And why is that a good thing?” Dean asked, and noticing how tense I had become, rubbed my arm to try to comfort me.  
“Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all,” Sam said, and Dean nodded, satisfied with the outcome.  
“First things first, we got to find it,” he said, and ruffled my hair before reaching into his bag to pull out his EMF meter. He got up and started walking down the aisle towards the front of the plane, and Sam shifted in his seat like he was going to follow him, but out a hand on my shoulder instead. I jumped slightly and turned to him, and I could see that he was worried about me.   
“El, are you okay?” he asked, and I started to nod before I changed my mind and shook my head.   
“Sammy… What if we can’t stop it?” I asked, trying and failing to keep my voice from shaking. He nodded in understanding before pulling me into a hug. I could feel him kiss the top of my head before he pulled away so he could look me in the eyes.   
“Hey, don’t worry about it- we won’t let that happen,” he said quietly, and I managed a weak smile.   
“That’s better. I’m going to go check on Dean- will you be okay for a few minutes?” he asked, and I nodded slightly. He smiled and stood up from his seat a little too quickly, smacking his head on the air vents. I stifled a laugh, and he smiled at me sheepishly and rubbed the top of his head before climbing over me to get to the aisle. He walked away and I closed my eyes for a few minutes, focusing on my breathing. Sam came back with Dean in tow, and I looked up at them, their faces set in determination. I shot Dean a puzzled look, and he took a deep breath before speaking.   
“It’s the copilot.”  
“What the shit?” I hissed, and Sam chuckled at my choice of words before motioning for me to stand up.   
“Come on, El- we’ve got to get to Amanda before the demon does,” he said, and I grabbed my bag before following them to the back of the plane. 

We headed back as quickly as we could, getting a few strange looks as we walked closer to the open curtain. Amanda heard us coming and turned to look at Sam and Dean in confusion, not noticing me hidden behind them.   
“Can I help you?” she asked, and I realized that she couldn't see me. I poked Sam in the side and he spun around to look at me, surprised, and I looked at him pointedly. Realizing the issue, he quickly stepped to the side, and I locked eyes with Amanda, who smiled in recognition.   
“Oh, hi. Flight not too bumpy for you, I hope.”  
“Actually, that’s kind of what we need to talk to you about,” Dean said, and Sam reached over to close the curtain before turning back to face Amanda, who was starting to look worried.   
“Um, okay. What can I do for you?” She asked, focusing mostly on me. I shook my head and sighed before stepping forward and speaking in a low, quick voice.  
“This is going to sound insane, but we don't have time to give you the whole speech and everything…” I trailed off, not really knowing what to say. Sam put his hand on my shoulder and stepped forward, and she turned to look at him, confused.   
“Look, we know you were on flight 2485,” he said carefully, and I could see the remains of her smile disintegrate into horror.   
“Who are you guys?” she asked shakily, slowly stepping away from us.   
“Trust me, that’s the least of your worries right now,” I said, and slowly held out my hand to her to keep her from moving away.   
“We know something brought down that plane, and it wasn’t mechanical failure,” Sam said, before Dean interjected.   
“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” Dean said, looking at her pleadingly. She stammered out an apology and tried to brush past us, but I reached out and gently put my hand on her shoulder, and she spun around to look at me, terror in her eyes.   
“We’re not going to hurt you, okay? I promise. But you need to listen to us,” I pleaded, and although she still looked scared, I felt her relax a little. Once I saw that she wasn’t going to try to leave again, I took my hand off her shoulder and gave her a small smile.  
“The pilot from 2485, Chuck Lambert? He’s dead,” Dean chimed in, and she turned to look at him in shock.   
“Wait, what? Chuck is dead?” she asked, and Dean nodded at her before continuing  
“He died in a plane crash. Now, that’s two plane crashes in two months. That doesn’t strike you as strange?”   
“I-”  
“Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn’t. But there’s something wrong with this flight, too.” Sam interrupted, speaking as calmly as he could.   
“Amanda, you have to believe us,” Dean said, looking at her imploringly. She paused for a second to collect herself before she looked up at us, eyes wide with understanding.   
“On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes,” she said slowly, and I nodded in encouragement.   
“They were black, weren’t they?” I asked quietly, and she nodded her head, surprised. Then she looked at all of us and stood up a little straighter.  
“I don’t understand- what are you asking me to do?”  
“We really need to talk to the copilot... Do you think you could bring him back here?” I asked carefully, and she looked at me for a second before she responded.  
“Why? What does he have to do with anything?”  
“There’s no time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay? Dean asked, and she crossed her arms in frustration.   
“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot-”  
“Do whatever it takes”, Sam interrupted. “Tell him there’s something broken back here- whatever will get him out of that cockpit.” She scoffed and stepped closer to Sam, unfolding her arms.   
“Do you know that I could lose my job if you-”  
“Okay, well you’re going to lose a lot more if you don’t help us out,” Dean interrupted sharply, and Amanda hesitated for a second before agreeing, and making her way to the door of the cockpit.   
I put my bag on the floor and bent down to dig through it. I tossed the bottle of the holy water to Sam, who deftly caught it, and then passed the duct tape to Dean, who grinned and slid his hand through the roll before handing John’s journal to Sam. He quickly flipped to the right page just as the copilot entered, looking slightly annoyed.   
“Yeah, what’s the problem?” He stepped forward, and I crept up behind him and kicked the back of his knee. He crumpled onto the floor, and Dean leaped at him. He pinned him down and put a strip of duct tape over his mouth while Amanda watched in horror.  
“Wait, what are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him,” she protested, stepping as far away from Dean as she could.  
“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean smirked, and held out his hands so Sam could toss him the holy water. He caught it and quickly opened the bottle, splashing the contents onto the pilot’s skin. It started to sizzle, and Amanda gasped in horror.   
“Oh my God! What’s wrong with him?”  
“Look, we need you calm. We need you outside the curtain,” Sam said, and Amanda stuttered in protest before he cut her off. “Don’t let anybody in, okay? Can you do that?” he asked, and she froze. “Can you do that? Amanda?” Sam asked again, and she nodded before slipping through the curtain.   
“Let’s do this thing. Sam?” I looked at him and motioned that he should start the exorcism. He began to chant in Latin, but was interrupted when the demon somehow managed to break free. It hit Sam and Dean and darted towards me. I managed to tackle it and slammed it to the floor, putting all of my weight on its stomach and effectively pinning it down. Sam continued, but not for long- the demon managed to throw me off and rip the duct tape off of its mouth. He then grabbed Sam by the collar before anyone could tackle him again, and got right in his face.   
“I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming- even now, she’s burning!” the demon growled, and Sam froze. Dean pulled the demon off of him and punched it in the face, knocking it to the ground. He pinned the demon down again with help from Sam, but it managed to kick the journal up the aisle.  
“I got him,” Sam said, gritting his teeth, and I gave the demon a quick kick to the ribs for good measure before it managed to escape the copilot’s body and disappear into a vent. I growled in frustration, and the two brothers stopped pinning down the copilot’s body.  
“Where’d it go?” Sam asked.  
“The damn thing is in the plane!” I cursed as Dean let out a few choice swear words.  
“Hurry up- we got to finish it,” Dean urged, but before Sam could continue, the plane dipped violently, sending all of us flying. I slammed against the wall and got the wind knocked out of me. I started gasping for air but found none, and was sure I was about to die when Dean grabbed me and pulled me towards where he was holding onto the exit door with one hand. He wrapped his arms around me and held onto me for dear life, screaming at the top of his lungs, as the plane continued to dive. Then a bright streak of electricity ran through the whole plane, and the plane started to level out. Once the plane was completely still, I collapsed onto the floor, still trying desperately to draw air into my lungs. Dean steadied himself for a moment before noticing that I had fallen, and quickly dropped onto his knees on the floor next to me.   
“Kid, what’s going on? Come on, talk to me!” he said, grabbing my shoulders and turning me so he could look me in the eyes. I tried to answer but couldn’t- by then I had started sobbing. He swore ad pulled me close to his chest, stroking my hair in an attempt to calm me down.   
“Sammy!” Dean yelled, looking around desperately. “We need some help back here!”   
Sam burst through the curtain, ready for a fight, but skidded to a halt when he saw us on the floor. He quickly sat down next to us and put a hand on my back.   
“Just breathe, El. You’re safe now.”  
After five minutes of us sitting on the floor, Dean still stroking my hair while Sam rubbed my back and spoke to me in a comforting tone, I finally managed to pull myself together. Dean touched my tear-stained cheek to get my attention, and I looked up at him, still trembling.   
“You gonna be okay, kid?” he asked, and I managed a shaky smile and a nod. He brushed my hair out of my face and helped me stand up. Once he and Sam saw that I could stand by myself, we walked slowly back to our seats, both of them supporting me with an arm around my waist. Sam slid into his seat before reaching out to help me into mine, and once I had sat down, I fell into him, exhausted and still shaking a little. He put his arm around me and looked down at me with pride.   
“We did it, Ella. We did it.”   
I smiled up at him before resting my head against his chest, and I quickly fell asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

As soon as we arrived back at the airport, we made a beeline for the exit, but were stopped by various paramedics who insisted that we needed to be checked out. Once they saw how tired I looked, they let us go, but not before wrapping a blanket around me, which I gratefully accepted. We reached the door and I turned to look at Sam, who had been oddly quiet since we got off the plane. I reached out to touch his arm, and he turned to look at me, not bothering to hide the pain in his eyes.  
“You okay?” I asked softly, and he sighed before responding.   
“Ella, it knew about Jessica,” he said, shaking his head.   
“Sam, these things.. They lie, all right? That’s all it was,” Dean interjected, and Sam smiled weakly at him before saying “Yeah” and turning to walk out the door. We got in the car and drove towards the airport hangar, where Jerry greeted us warmly.   
“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do- a lot of people could have been killed,” he said, shaking the boys’ hands and pulling me into a hug. “Your dad’s gonna be real proud.”  
“We’ll see you around, Jerry,” Sam said, and we turned to walk away. But before we got very far, Dean held out an arm to stop us and turned back towards Jerry, brows knit in confusion.   
“You know, Jerry, I meant to ask you- how did you get my cell phone number, anyway? I’ve only had it for like six months,” he asked, and Jerry looked at him before nodding absentmindedly.  
“Your dad gave it to me.”  
“What?” Sam asked, sounding just as shocked as I felt, if not more.  
“When did you talk to him?” Dean asked, a hard edge to his voice.   
“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call. Thanks again, guys.”   
With that, Jerry turned to leave, leaving the three of us standing there watching his retreating back, speechless. I looked up at Sam and touched his arm, snapping him back to reality, and then did the same to Dean.   
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, and we walked towards the car silently. Once we reached it, Sam and I leaned against the trunk while Dean paced in front of us. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number before walking towards us and putting it on speaker as the message began.   
“This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”  
The message ended, and Dean shoved his phone back in his pocket. We all stood in silence, Dean too stunned to say anything, Sam with his jaw set in anger, and me staring down at my feet. I didn’t have the same connection with John that Sam and Dean did- they were his blood, and I was just the girl he found on the side of the road- but he was the reason I was alive. And that he hadn’t bothered to call or even keep his phone in service stung. Sam, still fuming, got into the passenger seat. Dean and I followed soon after, and I grabbed my stolen pillow from the floor and curled up in the backseat with the blanket the paramedics had given me. Before long, I was asleep, and we drove off into the day to the strains of music from the car radio.


End file.
